


can we always be this close?

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Intimacy, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: A collection of intimacy prompts cross-posted from Tumblr.Table of contents in the first chapter.
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Bobbi Morse/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter/Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 24
Kudos: 37





	1. table of contents

_**Huntingbird:**_ Chapters 2-11 (10)

 _ **Fitzbobbi:**_ Chapters 12-14 (3)

 _ **Fitzhunter:**_ Chapters 15&16 (2)

 _ **Dousy:**_ Chapter 17 (1)

 _ **Fitzdaisy:**_ Chapter 18 (1)

 _ **Mack's Most Wanted:**_ Chapter 19 (1)

 _ **Fitzmackingbird:**_ Chapter 20 (1)

 _ **Fitzhuntingbird:**_ Chapter 21 (1)

 _ **Scis and Spies:**_ Chapter 22 (1)

 _ **Biohunter:**_ Chapter 23 (1)


	2. huntingbird + 1 (palm kiss)

“They won’t stop shaking!” Bobbi said, voice tight and tears glistening in her eyes.

“Shh, love, I know, shh,” Hunter ran a hand through Bobbi’s hair in a futile attempt to calm her down. She’d woken up in the middle of the night hyperventilating and shaking, and while her breathing was under control now and the remors were just in her hands, she was still obviously in distress.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Hunter pulled her closer into his side, winding his fingers through hers in an attempt to still them. It worked surprisingly well - it was harder for Bobbi’s hands to tremble when his were holding them.

“I hate this,” Bobbi said bitterly. “I hate this, I hate this, _I hate this_!”

“I know.” He squeezed her hands tightly before relaxing. “Nightmares aren’t fun. Panic attacks aren’t fun.”

“Shaking hands aren’t fun,” she added, obviously feeling that was an important omission from his list. 

“Shaking hands aren’t fun,” he agreed. He brought their joined hands up to his lips, kissing the back of Bobbi’s hand gently. She untangled their fingers and flipped her palm up to face him, and Hunter took the silent invitation to kiss the palm of her hand, too. Bobbi was steadier now, with the nightmare mostly chased away and him there to make sure it didn’t come back.

“It’ll be okay, love,” Hunter promised, pressing another kiss to the palm of her hand. “I’ll make it okay.”


	3. huntingbird + 7 (kissing scars)

"I hate this,” Bobbi grumbled as she turned to inspect her scar in the mirror. Her surgeon had given her a list of activities she was supposed to do to keep the scar from adhering to the muscle below, but none of them were _fun_ \- especially not when she had to look at the damn thing the whole time.

“I know.” Hunter wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her neck. “But it’s good for you.”

“I _know_ ,” Bobbi sighed. “Which is why I’m doing it even if I hate it.”

“Do you want some help?” Hunter suggested. Bobbi had been more touchy-feely since her surgery - call it a relic of a near-death experience - but he didn’t want to cross any boundaries. He had avoided touching the scar on her shoulder or the one on her knee for obvious reason; they were still healing and he didn’t want to accidentally irritate anything.

“I can do it.” She sighed again, reaching a hand back to run through his hair. “Thank you, though.”

“Thank _you_.” Hunter drew back to kiss Bobbi’s shoulder, then, carefully, the scar from the bullet wound. “For doing that for me.”

“It wasn’t for you,” Bobbi insisted. “It was for me.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious, Hunter.” She turned around, finally looking away from their reflections in the mirror. “It was for me, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”


	4. huntingbird + 10 (going on a date)

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this,” Bobbi commented as she slid into the seat opposite Hunter’s.

“Amazing what we have time for now.” Hunter gave a self-deprecating smile when he glanced up at Bobbi, but her mouth curved down.

“We should have made time for it.”

“I hate to say it, love, but saving the world is slightly higher on my list of priorities than planning a fancy dinner for you.” Hunter’s smile grew into something a bit more genuine. “Only slightly, though.”

“That’s good to know.” Bobbi smiled back at him, and even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes it was warmer than she had looked in days.

“We need to look like the kind of couple who would go on a vacation to Russia together, anyways,” Hunter said lightly, inclining his head towards the man in a nice suit who was obviously tailing them. “Dates are one step below vacation together.”

“Only _one_ step?” Bobbi asked as she thumbed through the menu. “No wonder our relationship fell apart. You do not understand relationship progression whatsoever.”

“Doing things a little out of order doesn’t mean we were destined to fail.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “You weren’t complaining either.”

“I wasn’t.” Bobbi flipped her menu shut and propped her elbow on the table. “What if I ask you all the questions I should’ve asked on our first date.”

“Think I have something to hide?” Hunter teased.

“No,” Bobbi said, tilting her head to the side. “Just like hearing your voice.”


	5. huntingbird + 23 (wearing someone's clothes)

“You look cozy,” Daisy said when Bobbi stumbled into the kitchen, half-awake.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Bobbi stuck her hands in the pockets of the flannel she was wearing. 

“Cereal?” Daisy offered. Bobbi nodded, shuffling over to the table and settling down as Daisy poured a second bowl of Lucky Charms.

“I’ve never seen you wear that flannel before,” Daisy commented when she also took her place at the table.

“It’s Hunter’s,” Bobbi said, fighting against the blush rising on her cheeks. 

“Hunter’s,” Daisy repeated.

“Yeah.”

“So you guys are back together, then?”

“I don’t think we ever really broke up,” Bobbi sighed. “Just were apart for awhile.”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Daisy said, shovelling in a bite of cereal. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

Bobbi buried her nose in the collar of the flannel, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent. Happy was just the start of it. She was safe now, too, surrounded by Hunter even when he wasn’t around.


	6. huntingbird + 26 (play fighting)

“Mack? Can I ask you a dumb question?”

“Yeah, Tremors?”

“How do you tell when Bobbi and Hunter are actually mad at each other?”

“Huh?”

“You know how there are some arguments that you really, _really_ don’t want to get in between, and there are some arguments that just look really nasty but actually aren’t?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, it kind of seems like Bobbi and Hunter are always fighting with each other, and I _cannot_ figure out which arguments are safe to get in between.”

“Daisy.” Mack clapped a hand on her shoulder. “If you are witnessing their argument, it is a play fight. Trust me.”

“ _Every_ single argument?”

“Every single argument you see, yeah. Just take my word for it.”

“If you say so...”


	7. huntingbird + 30 (being protective)

“I checked the entrances again,” Hunter announced when he stepped back into the room.

“That’s nice, sweetheart.” Bobbi didn’t look up from the book she was reading.

“How are you so _calm_ about all this?” Hunter asked, sinking into the chair at her bedside.

“I just pushed another human being out of my body, Hunter. This is not calm, this is exhausted.” Bobbi slid a scrap piece of paper into her book and closed it softly. “I also happen to know I have the best merc in the world watching my back.”

“In the world might be a bit of an overstatement,” Hunter said, hiding a pleased smile.

“For protecting me? And her?” Bobbi said, eyes flicking over to the baby happily sleeping in the corner. “You’re definitely the best in the world.”

“And why’s that?” Hunter asked. He knew the answer already, but he liked to hear Bobbi say the words anyways.

“Because you’re my husband.” Bobbi reached down, curving her hand along the back of Hunter’s neck and stroking her thumb down his spine. “And you’re her dad.”

_Husband. Dad._ Those were words he was never going to get sick of hearing.


	8. huntingbird + 47 (cuddling under blankets)

“What did they say?” Bobbi asked, pulling the afghan tighter around her shoulders.

“They’re not sure when they’ll be able to get someone out here. The storm and all,” Hunter said with a sigh. “Shite luck to have our heater blow out in the middle of a blizzard.”

“There are other ways to keep warm,” Bobbi said.

“I hate to tell you this, Bob, but we can’t have sex for two days straight. Even I don’t have that great of stamina.”

“You’re a perv,” Bobbi sighed. “Come here.” 

Hunter did what he was told, and Bobbi opened one side of the afghan so he could snuggle in beside her.

“The two of us, a mound of blankets, and Hallmark Christmas movie reruns,” Bobbi said. “Not exactly marathon sex, but...”

“I think I like your idea better.” Hunter pressed the cold tip of his nose into her neck, and Bobbi squealed at the sensation. 

“More blankets,” she decided. 

“...Why do I have a feeling that means _Hunter, go get more blankets_?”

“Because that’s exactly what it means,” Bobbi said, peeling the afghan back so Hunter could go retrieve more blankets from the chest in their bedroom. “Come back before I freeze to death!”

“I’ll try to!”


	9. huntingbird + 49 (a height difference)

“I’m not that much shorter than you.”

“I know.”

“It’s really the heels, they’re the only difference.”

“Hunter.” Bobbi stopped walking so she could glare at him properly. “Do you really care about which one of us is taller?”

“I rather got the impression you cared,” he grumbled.

Bobbi’s eyebrows raised. “And how’d you reckon that?”

Hunter mumbled something she couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“You were flirting with Mack!”

“I was -” Bobbi spluttered. “I was _not_ flirting with Mack!”

“You were!”

“Dearest, loveliest fiancé. I am not going to leave you for my best friend just because he’s taller than me.”

“Promise?” Hunter asked, lip sneaking out in a pout.

“Promise.” Bobbi pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You have way better hair.” 


	10. huntingbird + 57 (secret dating)

“This is ridiculous.”

“Your organization is ridiculous,” Hunter retorted. “And for the record, I don’t believe Section 17 is real.”

“Neither do I,” Bobbi huffed. She’d read the whole handbook front to back twice and there was no mention of people within S.H.I.E.L.D. being unable to date each other, or for agents being unable to date contractors or mercenaries. It didn’t make sense there would be a rule about that, either, since S.H.I.E.L.D. could easily consume someone’s life. Still, _everyone_ seemed to be talking about the statute that prevented fraternization and Bobbi didn’t want to make a mistake that would cost her her career.

“So, not-girlfriend,” Hunter sighed. “Where do you want to go on our not-date?”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“What about this do you want me to take seriously?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “The part where you said we’re not allowed to be seen together in public? The part where you’re not even allowed to tell your friends we’re dating, because of a code in your handbook _you can’t even find_?”

“Hunter.” Bobbi hesitated before reaching her hand to cover his on the gear shift. “I promise I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“I suppose it’s better you agreed to date me insecret instead of just breaking up on the spot,” Hunter grumbled.

“That was never an option.” 

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” Bobbi said with a smile. “It really wasn’t.”


	11. huntingbird + 60 (sitting in their lap)

“Don’t,” Bobbi warned when Hunter opened his mouth.

“Don’t what?” he asked, blinking up at her with those stupid perfect innocent hazel eyes.

“You know what,” she huffed, looping her arms around her neck when she settled into his lap.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You do _so_.”

“Bob, you are the _only_ one who thinks you look ridiculous sitting on my lap,” Hunter sighed. “Everyone else is just amazed you like me enough to get close to me.”

“Shut up, they are not.”

“Is this you admitting you like me?”

“Baby,” Bobbi said, nosing at Hunter’s hair. “I married you.”

“And divorced me.”

“And married you _again_. That’s how much I like you.”

“And yet you can’t sit on my lap without turning bright red.”

“I told you, don’t!”


	12. fitzbobbi + 14 (sharing drinks)

“Any good?” Bobbi asked when Fitz set his teacup back onto the saucer. In response he pushed it across the table to her, which was never a good sign. Bobbi peered at the tea, but it looked fine - amber-brown, clear with just a hint of cloudiness from the milk Fitz added. There would be plenty of sugar, too, so bitterness probably wouldn’t be the problem, which meant it was the flavor Bobbi had to worry about.

Her face screwed up in revulsion the moment the tea hit her tongue, and she smacked her lips unhappily when she set the teacup back down.

“My thoughts exactly,” Fitz said. Bobbi wasn’t surprised - the only thing they disagreed about when it came to tea was the iced tea argument, which meant they often shared drinks just to commiserate about how awful they were. It was difficult to get decent tea in America, a fact Bobbi had only come to realize when she started dating Fitz.

“Maybe order something else,” Bobbi suggested.

“Like what? _Coffee_?”


	13. fitzbobbi + 19 (back scratches)

“You’re really good at this,” Bobbi said drowsily.

“At back scratching?” Fitz asked, smile in his voice.

“Well, yes,” Bobbi said. “But also just... generally. Calming people down.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“It’s a good thing,” Bobbi insisted, forcing her eyes open so she could twist and look at him. “Not a lot of people are good at being quiet like this.”

“Then thank you again,” Fitz said. “I’m glad I can help you calm down.”

“You do a lot more than that,” Bobbi said, turning back around so she didn’t have to look him in the eye. “You know that.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But it’s nice to hear.”

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” Bobbi’s eyes slipped closed as Fitz resumed his scratching. 


	14. fitzbobbi + 27 (hugs from behind)

“They still getting along?” Bobbi asked, coming from behind Fitz to wind her arms around him. The two children in their backyard were screaming, but Bobbi was _almost_ sure it was the excited screaming of kids who hadn’t gotten to be kids for a long time, and not the screaming the indicated someone was about to be murdered.

“They are.” Fitz turned his head so he could peck her cheek. “I think it’ll work out nicely.”

“Good.” Bobbi hooked her head over his shoulder so they could continue looking out through the glass door to their backyard. The two girls they were looking to adopt had never met before today, but they seemed to be having a great time, both together and just being in Bobbi and Fitz’s home. They were going to have to return to their respective foster homes at the end of the weekend, but this was the first step to getting them both adopted. 

“They asked me what they should call me,” Fitz murmured. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That Leo is fine, if they want. Or Da.”

Bobbi’s heart fluttered unexpectledly. “And?”

“I think they’re talking to each other about it. They keep giggling and looking over here. Or, they were. Now they’re just yelling.”

“They’re seven and eight, Fitz, they don’t have that long of an attention span,” Bobbi chuckled, nosing at his ear. “Dinner’s ready when they are.”

“Let’s give them a little longer,” Fitz said softly. “They told me they’d never been in a backyard this big before.”

Bobbi frowned. They had a nice house but their backyard wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination. “I want to give them everything,” she sighed.

“You’re already giving them the best mum in the world,” Fitz said. “What more can they ask for?”

“They’ve got the best da, too.” Bobbi squeezed Fitz tighter against her. This wasn’t how she’d expected to build her family when she was a little girl dreaming of a future, but somehow, it was even better than she imagined - and she got to do it with the most amazing man in the world.


	15. fitzhunter + 46 (making a blanket fort)

“I can’t believe you’ve never done this before,” Fitz said as he draped one final blanket over top of their haphazard-looking structure. He assured Hunter it was the last blanket, but he had also said that three blankets ago, so Hunter wasn’t particularly inclined to believe him.

“Why would I have done it before? I hate to tell you, love, but the SAS doesn’t exactly promote bonding by making pillow forts.”

“ _Blanket_ forts,” Fitz corrected. “And I thought everyone did that when they were a kid.”

“Yes, and my childhood was picture-perfect. I did all the normal things kids do,” Hunter scoffed, crawling through the small opening to sit in the center of Fitz’s creation. Hunter wasn’t an engineer like Fitz was, but he wasn’t entirely certain of the structural integrity of the fort. 

“I’m sorry.” Fitz scooted in until he was beside Hunter and kissed his boyfriend’s shoulder gently. “But we get to make our own memories now.”

“Including building a better blanket fort?” Hunter asked a moment later after a blanket had dropped on him.

“Maybe I should phone my mum and ask her how she did it,” Fitz admitted.


	16. fitzhunter + 51 (slow dancing)

“Are you coming to bed?” Fitz asked, stepping into the nursery but not turning on the light.

“She’s still awake,” Hunter murmured, swaying from side to side. “So it’ll be another fifteen minutes, at least.”

“You know you could use the rocker,” Fitz said. “We got it for a reason.”

“She doesn’t like it. Squeaks too much,” Hunter said. “Besides, I like this. It’s kind of like dancing.”

“What kind of dancing are you doing where you just move side to side?” Fitz asked, sidling up to Hunter and sliding an arm around his husband’s waist.

“Slow dancing,” Hunter murmured, burying his nose in Fitz’s hair. “You know, that thing we used to do before you said yes to taking in every infant S.H.I.E.L.D. comes across?”

“It’s not my fault you’re good with babies,” Fitz protested. 

“Mm, isn’t it?”

“You’re going to be a great dad,” Fitz said, turning so he could wrap his other arm around Hunter. The baby put some space between them, but not enough that Fitz couldn’t rest his forehead on Hunter’s shoulder.

“So are you.” Hunter ran his hand through Fitz’s curls gently. “Reckon we’ll have to give this one back?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz answered honestly. He was too tired to think about it properly, either. He was too tired do do anything but sway as Hunter hummed another lullaby and rocked the baby and Fitz both to sleep.


	17. dousy + 8 (interrupting with a kiss)

“Daisy?” Daniel stuck his head into her home office, which was really just a rickety table with a desk chair and an outler close enough for her laptop’s power cord. “You missed dinner.”

“Did I?” Daisy uncurled herself, rubbing her stinging eyes. Okay, maybe she should have been able to guess that based on the headache steadily building in her temples.

“I came to interrupt you before you became glued to the chair.” Daniel smiled teasingly.

“You could have interrupted me when there was food,” Daisy grumbled. “C’mere.”

Daniel walked forward, understandably cautious. “Yeah?”

“If you’re going to interrupt me you might as well throw in a kiss for my troubles.” Daisy tipped her face up and Daniel leaned down obligingly, pressing his lips against hers.

“Next time don’t be afraid to interrupt,” she said when he pulled away. “I don’t bite, I promise.”

“I must remember last night differently from you, then...”


	18. fitzdaisy + 18 (playing with hair)

“We should really be getting to sleep,” Daisy murmured, pushing her hand through Fitz’s hair. “The movie ended ages ago.”

“M’not sleepy.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Daisy laughed, running her fingers through his hair again. “Which is why you’re falling asleep in my lap.”

“It’s the hair thing,” Fitz yawned, curling closer to her. “M’mum used to always play with my hair when I had a hard time sleeping. She’d get me a glass of warm milk and sing me and old song in Gaelic and play with my hair.”

“That’s adorable.” Daisy stopped moving her hand. “But seriously, Fitz. We can do this in our bedroom instead of the common room.”

“No,” he whined, burying his head in her stomach.

“You’re ridiculous,” Daisy huffed, but five seconds later she was back to stroking his hair.

“I don’t know any Gaelic,” she said a minute later. “But May taught me some Mandarin, if you don’t mind me butchering it. And singing off-key.”

“Go ahead,” Fitz mumbled.

He was asleep before she even finished the first verse.


	19. mack's most wanted + 20 (a handwritten note)

"Got this from the drop site,” Mack said, handing Elena the envelope. It had her name on it in neat, familiar print.

She slid a fingernail under the seal to open it, smiling when she pulled the card out. “They remembered.”

“Do you really think they’d forget your birthday?” Mack asked, tossing an arm around Elena’s shoulder. “Hunter takes birthdays seriously. _Too_ seriously.”

“Hush,” Elena admonished, opening the card. To her surprise, more paper slipped out - several sheets of looseleaf paper, filled both front and back with blue ballpoint pen. Bobbi’s handwriting was on the first few sheets, and Hunter’s on the others. Two were labelled with Mack’s name, and Elena passed them over before skimming over the ones addressed to her. There were the expected birthday wishes, but beyond that they were love letters of the most intimate kind.

Elena sighed, tracing the looping lines of Bobbi’s cursive with the tip of her finger. She’d hardly gotten to spend any time with Bobbi or Hunter before they’d had to start running again, and it was _strange_ how much of her love for them was built on letters like these ones. When she thought of them, it was their handwriting that came to mind - not their faces or their voices.

“Next birthday, we’ll be together,” Mack promised, squeezing her tighter against him. “Promise.”


	20. fitzmackingbird + 20 (a handwritten note)

“Does Fitz even realize I can’t read his handwriting?” Bobbi huffed, handing Mackt he sticky note that had been attached to the mirror on her side of the vanity.

“Yes, yes he does,” Mack answered with a smirk.

“Well, what does it say?” Bobbi asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Mack reread the note.

“It says ‘when Bobbi gives you this, give her a kiss for me’.”

“It does not!”

“How do you know?” Mack asked, bending down to press his forehead against Bobbi’s. “You can’t read it.”

“I know,” Bobbi said, wrapping her hands around the back of Mack’s neck, “because Fitz would never pass up an opportunity to kiss me himself.”

“Okay, so _maybe_ it says ‘find me in the lab for lunch’, but... we can keep pretending.” Mack grinned in the way that never failed to melt Bobbi’s heart, but she kept a straight face.

“I’m blaming you for this,” Bobbi warned, inching her lips closer to Mack’s.

“Blame away.”


	21. fitzhuntingbird + 23 (wearing someone's clothes)

“For the record, if you _ever_ take a photograph of me wearing this, I will learn all of your assassin tricks and use them to assassinate you,” Fitz warned when he stepped into the kitchen wearing a Liverpool jersey. _Hunter’s_ Liverpool jersey.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Bobbi said, not at all surreptitiously sliding her phone out of her pocket. “If I were to take a picture, hypothetically, and just send it to our boyfriend, would you still assassinate me?”

“ _Especially_ if you send it to him! He’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

“Uh huh,” Bobbi agreed mildly. She didn’t really understand her boys and their soccer rivalry, other than that they bickered incessantly whenever there was a game on.

“I’m serious!” Fitz said, stomping over to her so she wouldn’t be able to get a clear picture even if she tried. “I’m not wearing the jersey because I like the team.”

“I know.” Bobbi paused. “I miss him, too.”


	22. scis and spies + 40 & 51 (missing them & slow dancing)

“I keep feeling like we made a mistake,” Jemma murmured, hooking her head over Fitz’s shoulder. 

“Why’s that?” Fitz asked, hands steady on her waist. The white noise they used to put Alya to sleep droned on in the background, a steady hum that replaced music when they danced together.

“Because when I imagined settling down, having a child... I always imagined it with them,” she whispered. “And I know I should be happy, and I _am_ happy, but...”

“We’re never going to stop missing them,” Fitz finished, words almost lost in her hair. “And they’d be right to hate us forever for doing this without them.”

“I know, realistically, there was no way,” Jemma sighed. “But we’ve defied the universe so many times before, and this time we just gave up... why?”

“Because if we didn’t ask them to run away with us, they couldn’t say no,” Fitz said. “You haven’t seen them since they left, and if the last memory you had was of them saying no to you, the whole thing would be spoiled.”

“I miss them, Fitz.”

“I know, Jemma.” 

The white noise machine continued on, and so did Fitz and Jemma, dancing a dance that was never supposed to be just for two.


	23. biohunter + 50 (patching up a wound)

“You really should be more careful,” Jemma tutted as she wrapped a clean bandage around the bullet wound on Hunter’s arm. It was a graze, really - he wouldn’t have even come to the infirmary if Jemma hadn’t practically dragged him there when they’d landed.

“It’s not lack of carefulness that lands me here, love,” Hunter said, wincing slightly when he tested his range of motion with the gauze wrapped around him. 

“What is it, then?” Jemma asked, smoothing her hand down his arm before lacing their fingers together. “Because I’d rather this be the last time I have to patch you up.”

“They were going to hurt you,” Hunter said, turning Jemma’s hand over and running his thumb across her knuckles. “I’d rather be the one to take the bullet.”

Jemma sighed. “Lance. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know.” He looked down with a sigh. “But I’m not good at much else, am I?”

“Of course you are.” Jemma used her free hand to tip his chin back up until he was looking her in the eye. “I love you.”

Hunter attempted a smile. “Love you too.”


End file.
